Sometimes Goodbye is a Second Chance
by qfd
Summary: Sidney Crosby isn't the one night stand kind of guy...or is he?
1. Chapter 1

"Crisse de tabernak," I heard Kris mutter under his breath as the gates opened to the zamboni entrance and the ice girls poured out onto the ice armed with their shovels, squeegees and plastic buckets wearing their tight pants and half tops, too much make up and big, big smiles.

"Ah bon! Ma période préférée de l'année," Max grinned like the Cheshire cat and rubbed his hands together. "Un ensemble tout neuf de filles de glace."

"Otherwise known as fresh meat," Jordan added, leaning back against the boards and scrutinizing the new group of scantily clad girls like he was about to judge the Miss America pageant. "Hot damn! There's more blondes this year."

"You did, didn't you? You fucking voted online didn't you," Cookie muttered, shaking his head as he picked at some loose tape at the end of his stick. He wasn't watching but he was one of the only players who wasn't enjoying the view.

"Hey, Mister 'I'm married to a MILF', less of the back talk," Jordy laughed but no one else on the bench joined in.

"Do me a favor Gronk, don't talk about my wife that way," Cookie sighed, shaking his head.

"Are you saying it's not true?" Jordan asked and the next thing he knew he was eating the inside of Cookie's bacteria infested reeking glove.

"The boy doesn't learn," Kris laughed as he leaned out of the bench and eyed a particular dark haired beauty as she passed by the bench. "Tabernak de plotte sale, I bet she'd look good riding my….."

"Now, now tu petit crisse, remember your manners. These are ladies and deserve your respect as much as any…." I tried my best to raise the level of the conversation, to point out that they were just girls like any other girls just doing a job but, as usual, I was shouted over.

"Esti d'tapette de scalisse Crosby," Max growled. "That one wants to suck my fat cock. Look at her, she's fucking gagging for it," he added, reaching down into his hockey pants to underline his point I suppose, at which point the red-head with the plastic garbage pail shook her head and turned her back on the bench.

"Yeah, you're in there alright," I laughed as Max muttered something under his breath about it being her loss, in French of course while I went back to staring up at the screen, watching the last shot that I'd missed, over and over, analyzing how it was possible that I'd missed the damn net, again.

"Seriously, get your dick wet, you'll feel better, I promise. I guaranfuckingtee getting laid will help end a dry spell," Jordy offered, which I ignored, or at least I pretended to ignore it. It was easy for the rest of the guys to go out to a club, take a girl, or two, home. If I did it…well it would be all over the internet by the morning. I mean, you don't have to look any further than the fucking rig amoral over Tiger Woods to know that. At least I'm not married, and not fucking planning on it either. However, Jordy has a point and it has been a while…but still, never dip your pen in the company ink and by the company ink, I mean the highly infectious S.T.I. cesspool represented by the Pens Patrol. After all, if Max, Gronk, Tanger and TK have already been there…thanks but no thanks if you know what I mean.

"See what I don't get is how you of all people aren't getting any." Billy G said, leaning in, which got my attention because normally when it came to the sort of gutter level chatter that the younger players got involved in, the elder statesmen like Gonch and Billy didn't normally get involved.

"I'm busy," I grumbled, which has been my usual answer when faced with that kind of question, which has been often. Sure, being the poster boy for the team and the league means I get offers aplenty, but like I said, I'm not really into endangering my health and well being by sleeping with puck fucks and besides, when it comes right down to it, even though I date, I'm just never really sure if the girls say yes because they like me or if it's because I'm some kind of celebrity.

"He's studying to be a priest," Max laughs, hip checking me enough to make me stumble.

"I'm not saying you have to be the town pump like our boy Max over here," Billy added patting Max on the head who only grinned like it was something to be proud of. "I'm just wonderin' why you don't find yourself some cute young thing like Taylor Swift or…who's that actress from around your part of the world, the pregnant girl from that movie…?"

"Oh yeah, the girl from Juno!" TK grinned like he was gonna win something on the Price is Right or something. "I'd tap that," he added, nodding to himself like it was a possibility. "You don't have her number do you?"

"No," I sighed, shaking my head and laughing as the buzzer sounded telling us it was time to get back to work and, as far as I was concerned, not a minute too soon either. All these guys have girlfriends, none of whom are ugly in any way and none of whom deserve to be forgotten the minute a cute piece of ass goes by in a pair of tight pants and maybe that's my problem.

I was brought up to treat people, treat women, with respect. It's not like I can't have a one night stand and appreciate it as much as any other guy, but it doesn't fill up the space inside of me that's waiting for…for what I don't know. It's not like I'm looking but…it's not like I don't want to meet her either, whoever she is, but I know she's out there.

I just have to be patient.

"So," Max leans in, bumping my arm with his elbow. "Am I your wingman tonight or are you mine, again?"

"Oh tonight…I dunno…." That's right. We're heading to New York after the game and Max loves to party in the big Apple.

"C'mon Crosby, a couple drinks won't kill you. I promise. Loosen the fuck up man." Max knows I can never, or almost never, say no to him but I still make him work for it, just so he knows that I don't really want to go out. Because I don't. I hate going to bars. It always turns into a fucking gong show when I show up, except maybe in New York. In New York I just look like another Jewish med student, and Max knows it. "C'mon, be Superstar's wingman. C'mon, you know you're going to anyway, so you may as well just say yes."

"If it will shut you the fuck up then, fine, whatever. I'll stay until you hook up and then I'm going back to the hotel."

"That's my boy, chickachicksheee," he grins, doing his little happy dance as we mill around centre ice, waiting for the ref. "Max is going to get lucky in the Big Apple tonight, what what!"

"Is he always like that?" Zajac asks, lining up across from me, his stick on his knees.

"Max?" I glance over at my friend who's still doing his little dance, which the crowd is eating up and he knows it. "No, actually he's not but he'd hate it if he knew I'd told you that."

* * *

"Gemma! Gemma! Over here!"

"When did this start?" I mumble as I spin from the back of the town car, trying to keep my knees together as the flashes start going off. Not that I'm at any risk of doing a Brittany or anything. In fact I have an adorable pair of knickers on, black lacey things with frills on the bottom, but my mother would have a stroke over her tea if her darling daughter showed up in the Tabs showing more than just a little gams.

"You're a celeb now babes," my best mate, Esme laughs from where she's already standing on the carpet, looking like a thousand dollar strumpet in a way too short little black leather skirt that shows the tops of her lace up stay ups. She'd tried her best to get me into something similar before we left the hotel but I'm not about to dress like you could pay for my services, not even to get Perez Hilton's attention. I mean who wants a chalk cock drawn on them? I mean, aside from Brittany? I'd decided to stick to a high waisted black pencil skirt and a crisp white blouse.

"I'm not," I mutter, taking her hand and putting on my best big smile, newly whitened teeth and all. "No lipstick on my teeth right?" I ask through my teeth and Esme shakes her head, just enough so that I know.

"Gemma! Gemma! How's Ian taking the break up?" This is what I hate. I didn't even know who he was when he asked me out and we only went on two dates and I don't even like the guy and somehow that's enough for Tabs to have put us together. Break up? I just never called him and besides, the guy's an utter wanker and so are the rest of the poseurs in that little Vampire show of his.

"Ignore them," Esme drawls, waving at the cameras. If only they knew. She's sleeping with Rob Pattinson, but no one knows about that. It's all very hush-hush. "Just smile, suck your gutt in and stick the girls out."

"I didn't think they even knew about that over here. He was in fucking London for a week. A week!" I moan, wrapping my hand firmly around hers' and giving it a tug, wanting very much to be in the relative safety of a darkened club.

"That's probably some Brit photog," Esme laughs, blowing him a kiss, like she's fucking Katy fucking Perry all of a fucking sudden.

"Just come on will you!" She staggers after me as I stumble past the line and into the club, past them meaty bouncer who doesn't ask for i.d. and just lets us in because we came in an expensive car and one of the paparazzi seemed to know me. That, I suppose, is useful turn of events. Too bad Mr. Somerhalder wasn't better in bed. Maybe if he had been I'd have bothered to look him up when we'd crossed the Pond. "Bourbon," I call as we push our way through the throng of pretty faces and beautifully palates sculpted bodies and find a spot, well a wedge of light really, at the bar. The meatball behind the bar takes the twenty out of my fist and pours the smooth, dark liquid over two rocks and I lick my lips in anticipation.

"Bourbon eh? I admire a woman who likes a drink that doesn't have an umbrella in it." Turning I find myself looking into a pair of world weary blue eyes that quickly turn away again, but not before I get a glimpse of a smirk that says 'in about five minutes, you're going to be gagging for it.' He produces a fifty from nowhere, held up between two fingers and the bartender takes it, replacing it with a bottle of Tequila without a word being exchanged. If I didn't loathe that Golden Drug so much, I'd have been impressed. "Shot?" He doesn't so much ask as pushes an empty shot glass towards me before turning those eyes back on me with a raised eyebrow and a curled lip that is so far more suggestive of things other than alcohol that it makes me shiver involuntarily.

"You don't want to talk to this guy." Out of nowhere, this fuzzy faced man appears, bespectacled but brawny, and puts himself literally between me, the bottle of Tequila and the cocky guy leaning on the bar next to us. "Really, don't talk to this guy. He treats women like merde and I can clearly see that you are definitely not a women that a man should treat in any way other than a total princess."

"Oh and you're nickname isn't womanizer, Talbot?" Clearly pissed at having his game interrupted, the first guy, the sandy haired blue eyed stocky guy pushes himself off of the bar and tries to physically remove the interloper, who surprisingly enough, refuses to be moved.

"No, it's Superstar, not that I can imagine you would know what that feels like. You know, game seven, two goals, big hero, Stanley Cup…no, you wouldn't know anything about that would you?"

I share a look with Esme that tells me that we know it's wrong but isn't it lovely when boys fight over you as we wait for the bar stools and glasses to start to fly. I mean, obviously these two know each other and whatever blood there is between them, it's bad. The rest of the crowd around the bar seems to sense it too, and a hush falls around us as the crowd gathers, sharks sensing blood in the water. However, much to our dismay, a third gentleman comes in, a dark haired Prince of a man, and he calmly steps between the two squared off, placing a hand on both of their shoulders.

"Let me buy everyone a drink and we can all just calm down." I can't help but feel a sense of disappointment as the first charmer, clearly seeing that he's outnumbered, throws off the interceding hand of the peacemaker and pushes his way out through the crowd and disappears. "Fuck Max, do you always have to cause trouble?"

"That's what they pay me for little buddy," the bespectacled, fuzzy interloper replies with a wide, happy grin on his face, obviously pleased with the outcome. The peacekeeper only shakes his head and sidles up to the bar, ordering refills for our drinks which remain untouched and adds two shots of JD and two pints.

Shots…hmmm.

"So that looked…personal," Esme batted her fake eyelashes at the one called Max and his grin got wider as he nodded.

"I'll let you in on a little secret," he said, beckoning for her to lean closer and then whispering, "everyone hates that guy," when she did.

"Really? Everyone?" I asked, to which he nodded, looking and sounding very sure of himself.

"If they don't, you don't want to know them," he added raising his glass first to his friend, who was studiously and obviously ignoring him and then to us. "To beautiful women and the men who appreciate them."

"Uh oh," Esme laughed, digging her elbow into my ribs. "I think that guy might have been right. I think I see a warning sign on this guy's forehead."

"No, no, I love women. I mean loooove," Max insists, leaning close and raising a single eyebrow and grinning but not in a lecherous way, and neither Esme nor I could stop ourselves from smiling back at him.

"Oh dear," was all Esme could say in reply as she downed a shot of tequila, slammed the empty glass down on the bar and reached for the bottle.

"Ezzie," I reached to pull the bottle back but she only shook her head and pulled it out of my reach.

"I could fancy him," she whispered, before pouring herself another shot. "And his mate's tasty and all," she added, digging her elbow into my ribs for the second time. I glanced at his dark haired, pasty skinned friend who was still staring into space and shrugged. High cheekbones, sharp line along his jaw, full lips and long, dark lashes. She was right. He _was_ a bit of a dish.

"Dance?" Max asked glancing from me to Esme and back.

"Go on," I give Esme a push, not like she needs the encouragement. Max wraps his hand around hers' and I see a look pass between them that tells me that I'll be going back to the hotel alone tonight. Unless….

"So, do you fancy a dance as well or…do you want to seduce me and take me back to your pad and have your wicked way with me?" For a long, agonizing moment, I think the strong silent type is going to remain just that, silent. But then he turns and gives me this long, considering look that actually makes me entirely weak at the knees. Damn American men and their cowboy hotness.

"You…and…me?" he asked slowly, narrowing his eyes at me.

"Is that such a horrible idea?" I asked, my gaze roaming across his wide shoulders and down his muscular arms.

"No," he replied, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at the corners of his full lips. "Not at all."


	2. Chapter 2

_So this is the start of the if you're not over 18 you better not be reading this bit....just so you know_

There is this moment that happens, this weird awkward moment, when you know that you're going to have sex with someone that you don't know and it's just…weird. Like neither of you knows how to start, whether you should talk or not, or who should make the first move.

Fortunately, I didn't have to worry about that with her. She'd dragged me out onto the street, asked the bouncer for a car and then turned to me, grabbing my face in her hands. She kissed me then, a bruising full on kiss, tongue and everything that sort of took me off guard and got me completely hard, all at once.

"Well at least we know," she grinned at me as the long dark car pulled up to the curb in front of us. I stood there, baffled and a little embarrassed as she tugged on my hand. "Well if there wasn't a spark then I'd tell you to go back in and toss your bait back in the waters," she explained in a sort of whisper as she turned back to deal with my feet seemingly being stuck to the concrete beneath them.

"I…I wasn't…it was Max," I tried to explain, which made her purse her full red lips and narrow her dark eyes as she tilted her head to one side as she regarded me quizzically. It was a look that strongly suggested the naughty librarian I assumed she was going for with her tight black skirt and starched white shirt, fishnet stockings and high heels. All she needed was little glasses to look over and the look would have been perfect.

"So are you saying you don't want to shagg me?" she asked, her full lips twitching and her eyes sparkling under the neon lights of the marquee outside of the club. I realized she'd be fine if I said no, that she'd go back inside and choose some other guy and I realized that I didn't like that idea…at all.

"N…no," I managed, stuttering like a schoolboy after his first kiss behind the gym, or in my case, behind the rink.

"Well then luv, you are coming aren't you?" she asked, that cute little accent of hers' making everything she said sound innocent and dirty all at once. My head was spinning, not being able to make heads or tails of her. She looked like a schoolgirl and a dominatrix. Her smile seemed open and inviting, even friendly but the look in her eyes promise more than friendship and I kept thinking of this phrase I'd heard about an enigma wrapped in a contradiction. All I could do was nod and let her tug me into the town car behind her.

I'm not drunk enough for this, I thought as the darkness enveloped the back of the car and she leaned forward to give the driver some instruction before closing the privacy screen. That was the secret to most of the one night stands I'd had; alcohol and lots of it. I wasn't as good with girls as Max was. When push came to shove I usually got shy, which the kind of women I chose for one night stands, like this one, usually seemed to think was some kind of act.

Like now, as she turned back to me, casually and slowly undoing the buttons on her white shirt until the milky white half moons of her breasts cupped by black lace came into view I felt my face start to get hot and to make things worse, I was actually sitting on my hands.

What she expected, I didn't know, but it obviously wasn't this. She probably expected me to grab her and push her down on the seat. That was something Jordy would do. That, or bury my face in her cleavage and make motor boat sounds like Max would. I…well, I just stared and tried to breathe while she straddled my lap and bent to cover my lips with hers'.

* * *

He's a shy one, I thought as my tongue twined with his and my hands got to work on the buttons of his dress shirt. He didn't grab a handful of my ass, or stick his face in my breasts and make rude sounds. He didn't try and dry hump me or press me down into the seat and reach straight for the jackpot either. He just kissed me back and that took a moment or two as well.

He grew a little bolder then, reaching up to unclip my hair, careful not to drag the clip through my hair, tangle it and he didn't just toss it aside either. He carefully put it on the shelf behind him so that it wouldn't get lost or unexpectedly turn up painfully later.

Shy _and_ thoughtful, I mused as nipped at his full bottom lip, a good combination in a lover. That boded well for a good evening. That along with the god damn huge bulge I felt pressing up against me as I licked my way down his thick muscular neck. His skin was so pale in the light of passing cars that I was sorely tempted to mark him, dig my teeth into his skin, hear him hiss in pain but the shy ones can be so easily spooked that I decided against it and bent to play with other things, hard little nubs that, when suckled just so, resulted in the same sort of noise being emitted along with his hands fisting in my hair.

"I want you to pull my hair and leave me for dead, do you understand?" I whispered to him as I licked around the shell of his ear before offering him my lips again. He looked at me a little wide eyed, but didn't argue as the dark car slid up to the front of the Wyndham Garden Hotel. With my lips still covering his, I did up the buttons on his shirt again and did the same for myself while he watched hungrily, and then, curling my hand around his, I lead him inside.

* * *

I wanted her, or at least part of me did. Unfortunately the other part of me was yawning as soon as we hit the elevators and it wasn't just because of the muzak inside. It definitely wasn't because of the way she was running her fingers through her long coppery red hair, or the way her lipstick was smudged that reminded me that I'd just walked through the foyer of an expensive hotel wearing what was left of her lipstick. I'm not a prude, exactly. I was already imagining what those milky white breasts of hers' were going to look like while she moved over me, tossing all those copper coloured curls while her dark red fingernails dug into my shoulders. I was almost breathless with the thought of her whispering all kinds of dirty things to me in the dark in that accent of hers', egging me on, and yet I knew my body. I was tired. No, I was _past_ tired and the Jack Daniels I'd imbibed at the club had only pushed my body closer to shutting down for the night.

So my feet felt like lead as she dragged me towards a room down a too brightly lit hall, despite the fact that I was watching her shapely ass wiggle in that tight skirt in a way that made me want to grab a hold of it and press myself against it. Even when she turned to me with that half a smile that was almost all sex and only a little bit playful, I knew I wasn't going to be able to do her justice, no matter how much my libido was trying to convince me I wanted to.

Now I could have done what I knew that TK, or Jordy or any of the other young single guys on my team would do. I could have had her do all the work, laid back and let her make the best of a bad situation, but the more I looked at her, the more I didn't want to do that to her. She just had this…this cuteness, this… genuineness about her that was nothing like the girls we usually picked up at a club. She wasn't drunk off her ass, wasn't a slurring, sweaty, clinging mess.

Oh god, I was going to regret this in the morning.

"I…I can't do this," I sighed, standing there in the hallway with the door to her hotel room yawning before me, her deep red fingernails already having gone back to the work of undoing her blouse. I forced my gaze up and away from the inviting sight of her breasts and met her surprised gaze with what I sincerely hoped was an apologetic one of my own. "I've had a really fucking long day and…believe me…I shouldn't even be saying this but…I can't do this right now. You're…you're so beautiful and I want to but…I would just be…bad right now," I admitted, wincing at my own honesty. Fuck, I could hear the guys laughing their asses off at me already.

I watched as she processed what I'd said, her brow furrowing and her lips pursing in confusion and I couldn't blame her. I mean, I bet no guy had ever turned her down before and I didn't want to now but I if there's one thing I knew at that moment it was that if my head got anywhere near a pillow, I was going to go to sleep and as hard as it was going to be living down the fact that I'd turned down this beautiful red head, it was going to be even more impossible to live down that I'd fallen asleep with her naked beside me. The guys already thought I was pretty much as close to a virgin as you could get without actually being one. Falling asleep on a living sex dream like her was a revelation I would never live down, no matter how long I lived.

"You do look a bit peaked," she said finally, a smile tugging her lips up at one corner. "Do you want to come in for a bit…lie down, see how you feel?" She moved aside, and I told myself I should go, get a cab back to my own hotel and crawl into the bed I'd left empty beside Flower but just the way her she looked at me, like she thought it was cute that I was tired…I gave in and followed her inside and crawled onto the bed with her laying next to me, but apart, and there I fell fast asleep.

* * *

I awoke, sometime in the earliest hours of the morning, the flickering light of the television I'd left on the only light in the room, casting a blue glow onto the walls that, just for a moment, made me think that I'd woken up in some alien space craft. I knew it was a mixture of jet lag and not sleeping in my own bed that had me still half in the dream I'd been having, but it took me a minute to realize that it wasn't true.

That and maybe the strange feeling of having a solid, heavy body pressed against the back of mine. It wasn't a bad feeling, exactly just strange, foreign. I could help it I didn't sleep with men. Sex yes. By all means yes, but sleeping? No that was too intimate, too much of a personal invasion of my space. Whether they did, or I did, one of us always left afterwards. It was just better that way, less…messy. I wasn't in to sharing my life and that meant my bed as well and I hadn't meant to share my bed that night either. I'd thought the cute dark haired guy I'd brought back to the hotel would sleep it off for an hour or so and then leave but as I blinked into the semi darkness, he was definitely still there and if I'd had to hazard a guess, he was definitely not asleep.

I'd slipped out of the tight fitting pencil skirt before sliding beneath the blanket next to him once I'd tired of watching late night infomercials and chat shows. When exactly he'd gotten under the blanket I couldn't have said. Nor could I have known when he'd slipped out of…well almost everything by the feel of him pressed against the small of my back. I bit down on my bottom lip and tried not to groan out loud as the full, thick, hardness of him rubbed against me. I shut my eyes and tried to keep my breathing slow and even, trying to fool him into thinking I was asleep, but apparently that didn't matter that much to this bloke.

The feel of his full, soft lips pressed against the back of my shoulder sent a shiver through my body and I knew that there was no use feigning sleep any longer. He'd taken the shiver as a sign of consent and I felt his arms slide around my body, his hands slipping up my rib cage and beneath the underwire and lace of my bra until he was holding my breasts in his hands. I bit down harder on my bottom lip but that only turned what might have been a moan into a whimper as my body sprang to life, pressing against his, demanding to be appeased.

Despite that, he only held me that way, his fingers teasing my aching nipples while his mouth worked on my neck and shoulders, mixing pain with pleasure that made me cry out and press harder against what I could only guess had, by now, to be a nearly painful erection. Reaching back, I grabbed a handful of what felt like solid stone beneath hard corded muscle and dug my fingers into his ass, urging him against me and heard him curse, felt the heat of his breath against the nape of my neck before he bit down, making me buck against him again.

He rolled me over then, withdrawing his large hands from beneath the lace of my bra and slid them down to yank urgently and impatiently at my panties until they were stretched wide between my knees and I was pressed face down into the pillows. He took me then, all at once, in one long, almost painful thrust that felt as if I was being ripped apart and filled all at once.

I cried out then, digging my nails into the sheet, scrambling for purchase where there was none. All I could do was hold onto a pillow, pushing it in front of me lest he should drive me head first into the wall with his hard, insistent thrusting. I hung onto that white linen and cotton for dear life, making noises I'd only heard in porn flicks and had always thought were phony. I heard myself beg him for more, to make it harder and he obliged, his body pressed along my back, one hand reaching to snare my breast almost painfully while the other held me around the waist, holding me to him, pressing our bodies closer and closer together.

I was so close, more than once, though it seemed like he could go on like that for hours. I had begun not to even make sense, merely emitting guttural noises like some kind of animal as he wrapped my hair around his hand and pulled my head back so that I was looking up into his feral eyes. Lord knew it was what I'd asked for but then I had asked for this same treatment before from other less…virile men and never come close to actually feeling it.

His body slammed into mine, pulling me up so that I was kneeling with his entire body pressed against mine, our bodies still joined. One hand covered my breasts, pinching and pulling until I moaned while the other reached down between my nether lips and brought me, spilling me over the edge while he held my body tightly to his, thrusting up inside of me while I shook and tightened around him.

He pushed me forward then, so that my hands were flat against the wall and, with his hands around my waist, he took me even harder then, brutally driving himself inside of me over and over in short, hard thrusts until I heard his breathing hitch and then one hand slid down and his fingers slid over the slick, hot wet folds of my pussy until he found my clit and he pressed down on it, in hard little circles until we both came, releasing primal cries that I was certain would wake all of New York.

* * *

My body ached, in good ways and bad as I slid from beneath the crisp white hotel sheets and left her sleeping soundly curled on her side, a small satisfied smile still on her lips. I looked down at her and felt my cock twitch. I wanted her again, as I had more than once in the early hours before dawn. We'd done it…four…maybe five times; whatever it had been had to be some kind of record, for me anyway. It was like I couldn't get enough of her and for her part…well she didn't seem to tire easily. But that last time, even though it was almost painful, it had been…well if the guys knew I was thinking like this, they'd bust a gut laughing, that's for sure. All I knew was we'd come together in silence and fell apart breathless and we'd just sort of laid there smiling at one another, but hadn't spoken and I still didn't even know her name and sometime during the last time I woke to her feather light kisses, I realized that I want to know her name and more…much more.

Looking around the room, I told myself that she hadn't even taken the time to unpack before she and her friend had gone out to the club where we'd met so there would be time, later, after practice to ask her name. All I had to do was come back to the hotel and chances were she'd still be sleeping. After all, it wasn't a mandatory practice and chances were it was only going to be an hour.

I fought the urge to kiss her goodbye. It seemed like a strange thing to do. I didn't know her at all and even if she did look happy and peaceful laying there she probably wouldn't be as happy if I woke her for no reason. Not everyone is as used to waking as early as hockey players are. So without a goodbye, I turned, gathering and slipping into my clothes as I went and with one last look over my shoulder, I headed out into the dawn, fully intending to return to the warmth of that bed and her body.

* * *

"Ezzy, are you in there?" I wasn't sure if I was going to find my friend in the adjoining room or not as I knocked on the door that I would have usually busted through unannounced but I did, sitting up in a nest of sheets and pillows on the floor, blinking at me like an owl, sporting the same colourfully striped sweater that her bespectacled dance partner had been wearing. Looking around the room I began to mentally tally the bill for the state of destruction we were going to have to leave the room in. "Ez…my god…what the hell happened?"

"Max…lord!" I watched as Esme fell back into the nest of sheets and pillows with a blissful look on her face. "Athletes…fucking amazing stamina. Everything fucking hurts."

"Well that explains that," I mused as I thought about my various aches and pains and the multiple orgasms my own dark knight had helped me achieve in the early morning hours. "Do you think you can manage to make yourself respectable? We've a flight to catch in a couple hours remember."

"I suppose," Esme sighed, still staring up at the ceiling with a gleefully absent look on her face. "Although you could go on without me. I mean, you don't need me there for the audition do you?" she asked, pushing herself up to her elbows and raising her eyebrows inquisitively and, I also thought, hopefully at me.

"I'm not going to even dignify that with an answer Ez. Get dressed, and for god sakes don't wear that thing, it's naff. I'll meet you in the café downstairs and don't be long," I added, pointing at her to get my point across. With a dramatic sigh, she managed to struggle to her feet and stumble towards her luggage, grabbing her makeup bag and, as I turned for the door, I heard the tap beginning to run. Satisfied that she was actually getting ready to go, I slid my script under my arm, took my own bag and, pulling it behind me, headed for the elevators.


	3. Chapter 3

Gone. She was gone. There had been no answer at the room so I'd managed to muster the courage to check with the front desk, only to realize that I didn't know who to ask for and had ended up mumbling her room number and something about leaving something in the room. Fortunately the concierge didn't bat an eye when he said that the young ladies had left about an hour ago to catch their flight.

Really gone.

I'd thanked him and turned away, feeling his eyes on the back of my head. He was probably laughing at me and I couldn't blame him. You don't go back to the scene of the crime. How lame was that? Very, I decided as I headed back out to catch another cab back to my own room.

"No joy?" Max asked as I trudged out to the front steps of the hotel where he was waiting, looking like he didn't care if we found them again or not. Still, he had come with me which meant if I'd found them he'd probably have been happy to renew his acquaintance with her friend.

Her…her friend…fuck! I tried to remember if I ever heard them call each other anything, or if there had been a name tag on her luggage, but I kept coming up empty.

"They flew out," I sighed, shrugging when Max's smile dampened noticeably.

"Really? Merde!" So he was hoping for a round two, just as much as I was.

"You didn't get her name did you?" I ask, trying to sound casual, off hand, like it doesn't matter if he did or not but Max shakes his head, cursing en français under his breath.

"No, tabernak, I did not and I can't believe that whiter than white Sidney did not. It's not like you mon ami." His expression changes from frustrated to amused and I can already hear it coming, so I shake my head and push him ahead of me.

"I don't need to hear it. I had a one night stand, you should be happy. Don't bug me about it."

* * *

But it bugged me. Endlessly.

Was she a model? Max thought it likely. After all, they'd had top end clothes on, really nice stuff, nice feeling fabric and Parisian lingerie, which I myself didn't so much remember but was willing to take his word for it. I just remember that she smelled…great and yes, expensive and her skin was so soft and she was soft and smooth…well, everywhere so yes, it was definitely likely she was some kind of model.

And yet, no matter how many magazines we poured through at the airport both in New York and when we landed back at home and went to our favorite newsstands, neither of us could find them in any of the usual mags, high fashion or FHM. It was pretty frustrating. Max had even Googled British models, but none of the women he came up with looked like either of our ladies.

Finally we decided that we were both being pretty pathetic. After all, at least I was about to head into puck bunny heaven. I was a member of Team Canada in the Olympic city. I could probably get as much tail as I'd ever had in my entire life, if I wanted, which was probably not a great idea but the thought was there. As for Max, he was heading for sunnier climes, Barbados, and all the bikini clad hard bodies he could find, which is what he was thinking of when he kicked bag on my bed, his ankles crossed, my pillows bunched up behind his back waiting while I packed before we went to the rink for the last game before the Olympic break.

"If you don't get the gold, you can be content in the fact that I will have fucked at least ten co-eds by the time you get done working your tail off out there," he grinned at me, ducking the balled up sport socks I hurled at him with deadly accuracy.

"Don't even say we won't win. Don't even say it out loud," I warned, giving him a dark look before turning back to stuffing my bag with rolled up t-shirts and other work out gear.

"I'm not saying you're not a good team, it's just too bad I'm injured and can't help. I mean, I could come out as your wing man," he continued, causing me to shake my head, although I couldn't help but laugh.

"I won't have time for that kind of hunting," I sigh, thinking about all the work that's likely ahead of me, of all of the guys on the team and how little time we'll have to do it in.

"Tabernak, don't tell me you're not going to get into some of those parties." We'd already seen some of what was going on in Vancouver and the street parties did look inviting but the chances of my being able to pass as just another reveler out in the streets was pretty low, although the thought was certainly tempting. "At least promise me you'll go after some figure skater tail," he grinned, like the thought was appealing.

"Did you see the pictures of those skiers in Sports Illustrated?" I asked, thinking especially about a certain young French blonde….

"_Maudit_! C'est elle, est lui pas?" I turned to look at what was causing Max to scramble toward the end of the bed and felt my jaw drop as I saw the woman that had marked up my back and drained my body of energy in a cute as a button Regency outfit, bonnet and white gloves and all, making eyes at some ponce in a top hat, frock coat and walking stick.

My mouth went dry.

She didn't look exactly like the vixen that had ridden me with pure, unadulterated abandon but it was her, of that I was sure as I stood there, staring at the innocent looking ingénue batting her eyelashes and looking otherwise innocent when I knew damn well she was anything but. Christ, just looking at the slight swell of her breasts above the smocked, almost diaphanous top of her dress was making it difficult to even stand as all of the blood in my body rushed south.

And then, to make matters worse, she spoke and I knew absolutely and without a shadow of a doubt it was her.

"What movie is this?" I snapped, grabbing at the remote and hitting the info button. Masterpiece theatre…Persuasion…her name was Gemma Hawkins. "Max, throw me my phone."

* * *

"Sorry, I haven't done too much work that over here and none that isn't…historical in nature," I apologize, for what seems like the umpteenth time as I try, again, to get the American accent down that's required for the part.

"Don't worry about it kiddo," the very dishy, very surfer boy American actor that's reading with me leans in to whisper encouragement to me. "Just remember they wanted you. Even though they're making you read for it. They wanted you. Me…I'm the one who should be nervous," he adds, which actually does help to settle my nerves, just a bit. I glance over at Esme and she gives me a thumbs-up, which also helps, before she goes back to madly texting.

"Maybe after we're done here, I could take you for dinner?" the blonde asks and it's on the tip of my tongue to say yes but I give him a brilliant smile and shake my head instead.

"I have an early casting," I apologize with a shrug. "But maybe I can get your number?" I add, by way of trying to assuage his ego, which seems very important with American men I've noticed, and besides if there's any chance we might both win the part, I don't want him to be mad at me.

In actual fact I don't know why I don't say yes. I mean, other than the fact that Esme and I are flying up to Vancouver in the morning to do some media work for the London games. Not that I've figured out yet what wearing lingerie in the snow during the Winter Olympics in Canada has to do with advertising for the Summer Olympics in London, but it pays the bills.

Except that there's this nagging thing in the back of my mind that if I'm going to have another one those…physical relationships, it had better be better than that one night in New York and that…well that is going to take some doing.

I accepted the American actor's digits and then we take our places to read the scene again and I channel that young dark haired man's voice that I can still hear so clearly in my head and the scene goes down much, much better.

* * *

"You have her name, you have a list of things she's been in, what do you mean you can't get a hold of her people?" I growl into the phone, trying to keep my voice down. This isn't at all what I'm supposed to be concentrating on. Even though we have just handed Norway a spanking, as a team we didn't play very well and not every team is going to play that poorly. I need to have my head in the game. I mean, I only have the entire nation's hopes and dreams on my shoulders. Just one little problem; I can't stop thinking about that girl from New York.

"It isn't that easy," Pat, my agent assures me, sounding more than just a little miffed at being asked to perform this task. "Her agent's in London, for one thing, they're hours ahead and I have all this endorsement stuff for you to deal with…"

"And I'll deal with all that but can't you just email them and ask for her email or cell number or something? Her fucking twitter page, I don't care. How hard can that be?" I don't usually ask Pat for anything out of the ordinary and I have this horrible weight on my shoulders and I really don't need a 'no' from him right now.

"I don't know that it's just as easy as them giving that kind of personal info out Sid. They're going to want to know why we want that information." I know that, or at least I've thought of that already and I have my answer ready, even though I know he's not going to like it.

"Tell them we want her for a commercial shoot," I reply, calmly, all business and then listen to the silence on the other end of the phone.

"Sid I…," I can hear the smile in my agent's voice now and I can even picture him shaking his head as he processes just how serious I am about this. "That would be a bit unusual."

"Look…I don't know a lot about how these Hollywood people do it but…figure it out Pat. You're a smart guy. Just get me the girl's number. I'll talk to you later." I click my phone shut and lay back on m bed, picking up the remote and aiming it at the television. There's nothing on but Olympics, but unlike some of my other teammates who are heading out to the speed skating to cheer on the Canadian skaters, I'm stuck here in my room where I'll at least be safe, so if I can't cheer them on in person, I may as well at least watch them.

"_Here in whistler one is reminded a bit of Innsbruk. You have some of the old world charm of the European ski lodges but with all of the nightlife of any Metropolis worth its salt. The food and the wine at the restaurants is certainly top notch. You can get a taste of nearly everything and anything you can think of just steps from one another, and all of this and wonderful skiing and scenery and shopping too_."

There she is, on the TV and apparently less than two hours away from here, it's Gemma, the woman of my dreams…or at least the x-rated ones.

"Flower," I pick up my phone, hitting the speed dial without taking my eyes off of her luscious curves as she raises a glass of something pink and bubbly while she stands in the snow in tight fitting ski suit surrounded by mop haired ski bums.

"'Allo…mon ami?" Fleur manages to sound groggy as he answers the phone from down the hall, no doubt catching his afternoon nap. Flower likes to sleep.

"We have to get a ride up to Whistler, _now_."

* * *

"I detest being cold," I grumble, yawning and stretching as I slide into the hot tub at the chalet, closing my eyes as I slide into the hot water up to my chin.

"They're paying you a pretty penny to be here," Esme reminds me as she hold the bottle of wine towards me but I shake my head. I don't need wine. I need sleep.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. Not really. I would just have preferred an assignment to the Caribbean that's all," I mutter, wondering if I'd actually cook away to nothing if I never got out of the steaming hot bubbles. "Besides, we'll see how much you like it when they have you rolling around in the snow in a bikini tomorrow."

"Did you have to remind me?" Esme moans, kicking me beneath the water.

"Oh yes, poor you, romping around in the snow with some totally fit…now what were they…lougers? Skeleton sled dogs? What do they call them?" I ask, giggling as I try to think of the word for it, opening my eyes to find two very specimens standing on the edge of the hot tub, clothed in the wind breaker track suits I've seen the Canadian athletes wearing around the village. "Mmm hallo," I grin, my eyes tracking up their legs to their thick torsos and then up to…. "Oh my god…it's you."


	4. Chapter 4

_be forewarned, this is some pretty gritty dirty adult stuff_

**Chapter 4**

He held the towel out like my mother used to do when I was small and had stayed out in the water too long and she was cross, sure I was going to catch a chill. Even the look in his eye, the set of his wide, sensuous mouth, said that there would be no argument, no discussion.

So, a little reluctantly, I stepped out of the steaming water and into the towel, not sure if I shivered at the bite of the cold air or the feeling of his hands tugging the towel around my shoulders. When I turn to face him, the fierceness in his eyes freezes my tongue and I don't even ask him how he found me or why.

Well…as to the why, that's very clear. Simmering behind the impatience and frustration that's clear in his hazel eyes is stark and unreserved passion and, like the crack of lightening, it makes me weak in the knees to see it.

"Do you have a room…_here_?" he asks, as if he can barely get the words out. As if it's difficult to speak at all and his voice sounds hoarse from the exertion. For myself, I can only nod and point to a security card lying on the concrete beside my wineglass, and in one quick and sweeping gesture he grabs it up in his fist and, digging his fingers into my arm, drags me along with him into the hotel.

I hardly noticed the sideways glances or the barely concealed tittering behind hands as he drags me towards the elevator and impatiently presses the button insistently, several times while I stood there beside him, dripping on the floor. I was sure that his fingers were leaving bruises in my arm that could have been read by some instrument on CSI, but I wasn't inclined to ask him to remove them, nor did I utter so much as a sound when the doors slid open and he shoved me inside ahead of him.

I stumbled inside, turning to feel his hands cupping my cheeks and his lips crashing down over mine.

I let go of my towel and grabbed for him instead, fisting my hands in his track suit, pulling him closer until the weight and solidity of his muscular body pressed against mine, making it very clear that he had not forgotten what it felt like for our bodies to be joined nor how eager his was to return to that carnal state.

Not that I was in any less of a hurry to get him out of the tracksuit and into my bed. Once the doors opened again, I was the one that dragged him down the hall and waited, not at all patiently while he put the card in the slot and we both waited for it to turn green.

* * *

My mouth went dry as soon as the desk clerk confirmed that she was a guest. My heart began to beat too fast when he said that he'd only just seen her and her friend heading out to the hot tub. I didn't give Fleur another chance to try and talk me out of it. I didn't even really have time to think of what I was going to say. I should have, in the time it had taken us to borrow a car from one of our teammates and drive up to the Village, never mind explaining our way through security. We certainly got some odd looks there but I didn't even have the presence of mind to lie. I was looking for a woman and I had to find her.

And now I had and just seeing her there, her face lit by the reflection of the lights from the pool, her eyes alight with laughter, her copper coloured curls pulled back away from her face so that all that milky, smooth skin was bare right down to where her barely concealed breasts were sort of floating in the water and all I could think was that I couldn't wait to be inside of her, to see her face flushed with the first orgasm and then all that would come after that. My brain had raced so far ahead I couldn't even think to say anything. I just walked forward and grabbed her towel when she looked up at me.

I wanted to ask why she'd left without a word but it seemed stupid and besides, watching her climb out of the hot tub, her ivory skin running with warm water left me speechless. She let me wrap her in the towel and just that brief a touch of her skin made me light headed and I knew I had to be alone with her, now.

"Do you have a room…_here_?" I almost said please, because part of me was willing to be arrested for indecent exposure if it meant putting my mouth on parts of her that are usually best revealed in private. Her eyes are a little wide, and her full mouth opens to answer, but nothing comes out and so I follow the direction of her gaze to the security card by her wine glass and, with my heart pounding in anticipation, grab it and her and take both inside, heading towards the elevators with one thing in mind, to have her as soon as possible.

I'm so eager to get her alone, I don't even think what it looks like for me to be dragging her across the marble floor or if it looks suspect for me to shove her into the elevator the moment the doors slide open. All I know is the moment I have her alone, all I want is to taste the wine she's been drinking on her lips and to feel her in my arms and luckily she seems to feel the same or at least she doesn't scream for help as I press her back against the mirrored wall inside the elevator as I kiss her, forcing her mouth to open beneath mine as my tongue reaches for hers'.

Then it's her turn to drag me to the closed and locked door of her hotel room and I'm left to fumble with the stupid card, my hand shaking as I impatiently swipe it upside down and backwards before finally getting it right and throwing the door open with a crash, sending it slamming into the wall as I push her inside.

She laughs, a throaty sound as she backs up towards the bed, pulling me along with her as if I'm attached on an invisible string. I almost freeze, my confidence eroding when she reaches back to untie her bathing suit, but as her breasts spill free something else takes over and I grab her and pull her to me, kissing and biting my way down her neck until I'm suckling at her breast and she's whimpering and moaning and I can feel her hands in my hair and then I can't think of anything at all. Like some kind of animal escaped from captivity, I don't speak, I growl as I push her down into the quilt and rip the thin material of her bikini bottoms in two so that I can slide my fingers inside of her.

Her back arches off of the bed as slide two fingers inside of her, and she presses herself against me as if to say it isn't nearly enough and I can't agree more. Impatiently I tug my jacket and t-shirt over my head and toss them into the corner and before I can even reach for them, her hands are the elastic waist of my track pants and she's pulling them down over my hips, her hungry gaze locked on my hard on where it's pressed against the thin material.

All I can do is watch as she frees my erection, letting my pants fall and pool around my ankles while she takes hold of my dick in both of her hands, one hand curling firmly around the base of my cock and the other guiding the head of it in between her full lips. My knees almost buckle as she sucks it into her mouth, over her tongue, until it can go no further. It's almost like I have to hold onto her, as if wrapping her ponytail around my hand is the only thing stopping me from falling down or at least falling to my knees. She slides me nearly completely out of her mouth and then flicks her pointed pink little tongue around the head of my dick while one of her hands moves down to cup my balls and gives them a little more than a gentle squeeze and that does make me stumble.

"Jesuz fucking chrisssst," I let out a low moan, needing to catch my breath before looking down at where she's turned her eyes up to meet mine, her lips curled up into a grin around my cock and that…well fuck me, that's just sexy as hell.

"Okay?" she asks, her mouth still full of my dick and I almost laugh at how that so doesn't even come close to covering it.

"Hell yeah. Keep this up and I'll be fucking useless," I mutter, my eyes squeezing shut as she slides her mouth along the length of my cock, her tongue vibrating under and around it until I can't think anymore and everything just becomes colours and stars and I know damn well I'm not going to be able to keep myself from spilling my load. I feel like a fucking teenager getting his first blowjob, like I have no fucking control, no staying power at all. Especially with her humming happily, sending amazing sensations down the length of my cock to where her hands are working at its' base and around my balls and I now I know damn well she's going to make me cum like this and there isn't going to be anything I can do to stop myself because I'm fucking putty in this woman's hands.

* * *

It's almost not fair, I know, as I begin to stroke the soft, thin skin behind his balls. I'm almost sure, just by the way he twitches and his eyes pop open that no one has ever gone there before. Not that he really needs the extra encouragement to cum, I can already feel his balls tightening and I can hear his breathing becoming ragged and shallow, but I love to hear the roar a man can't help but let go when he has a prostate orgasm. So although he clenches his muscular ass cheeks as hard as he can and his cheeks flare a bright red, I slip my finger in and feel his hands splay across the back of my head, forcing his dick as far back into my throat as I can stand it and then some and then his whole body bucks and twitches as the orgasm rips through him and on the wave of it, I hear him scream my name.

"Fuck! Gemma…fuck…_oh…oh shiiiiit_!"

It's so worth it to watch his full lips pull back, baring his teeth before his jaw goes slack and his eyes sort of roll back in his head and his hands slide down to my shoulders before his cock slips out from between my lips, though I catch it, cleaning up every last drop of that thick, honey and salt liquid as his cock twitches and his body shudders with every flick of my tongue.

He looks sheepish and embarrassed as he collapses onto the bed but when I crawl up beside him, pressing my body close to his and nip at his thick, muscular neck, he seems to forget his momentary discomfort and does exactly what I was hoping he'd do. His big hand cups my breast while the other reaches for my hair again and he winds my hair around his hand before pulling my head back, baring my neck to his teeth and tongue.

"You know my name," I point out, running my fingers up his back, enjoying the feeling of his muscles flexing and rolling beneath my fingertips.

"How do you think I found you?" he growls, rolling me onto my back and pressing me down into the quilt, his hazel eyes searching mine. "It wasn't fucking easy," he adds, a triumphant sort of grin spreading across his face. "And now you're going to pay for making me wait all this time," he promises, or threatens, as his grin gets wider before he lowers himself onto me, his teeth digging into my neck until I gasp and dig my nails into his back.

I can already feel him hardening against my thigh and press myself up against him which only seems to make him crazier as his hand squeezes my breast hard enough that it almost hurts. Almost, but not quite as I bite down on my lip and moan rather than whimper. I always have been a little partial for just the right amount of pain mixed in with my pleasure.

When his full lips close around my nipple and his other hand slides into my now ruined bikini bottoms, I arch my back off of the bed, trying to force his hand to the spot where I want it. Not that it seems like he needs the guidance and maybe his memory is just that good, but he finds the spot that makes me squirm and sends a shiver down my spine without needing to hunt around. Between his tongue slowly circling my nipple and his fingers pressing not exactly gently but not exactly hard on my clit, it's all I can do not to fall apart, squeezing my eyes shut as I try to stave off the orgasm.

Except that it's not possible, not when he suddenly slides down the length of my body and presses his lips over where his fingers had just been working and his hands press my thighs back and apart so that his tongue can dig inside of me. Then it's my turn to dig my fingers into his hair, to look down at where his eyes are watching me as try to catch my breath before his teeth bite down oh so gently on the tender flesh which sends me screaming over the edge.

I barely feel him move, my entire body being otherwise engaged in enjoying the profound orgasm he's brought me to. Except then I feel him, the full length and width of him pushing his way inside of me while my body is clenching and tight and the feel of him trying to screw his way inside of me while my muscles literally clutch at him steals the breath from my lungs.

I want to ask him if he's fucking kidding me but his eyes are screwed shut and his teeth are clenched, as if he too is finding this sensation almost more than he too can bear. So, I move, just a little, pressing up against him which takes him deeper and his body shudders, his shoulders sag and long, low groan escapes his lips.

"You're not the only one that's been having perverted dreams since New York," I whisper, reaching up to brush my fingertips across his lips. He opens his eyes and looks down at me, his mouth opening and his teeth grabbing for my finger but I shook my head and slid my hand down to his nipple, which I squeezed and twisted until he sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Uh uh, you're the one that left."

"I. Went. Back," he admitted breathlessly, emphasizing each word with a thrust that nearly drove the breath from my lungs again. "I had practice," he added, his arms flexing as he let himself down over me just enough so that his lips almost touched mine, "and when I…when we came back, you were gone."

"Awww," I grinned up at him, reaching for the other nipple only to have him grab my wrist and pin it, almost painfully above my head. "Were you disappointed?"

"Are you gonna talk?" he asks, reaching for my other arm which I allow him to take if only because I'm half amazed by the strength required to do it and am totally mesmerized by his abdominals while he does it. "Or am I going to fuck you?"

"Mmm not so shy now are you chuck?" I ask, thinking about the night in New York, the sexy young man that hadn't spoken a single word to me and left me boneless and asleep.

"Gemma," he whispers, one hand holding both of my wrists above my head while the other hand traces its way down from my shoulder to my nipple, which he then tugs and twists but not as painfully as I had done to him. "You can talk all you want with my cock in your mouth but right now…all I want to hear is you begging for more."

"Well…damn cowboy," I grin up at him, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him deeper. "Then shag me harder and maybe you'll shut me up."

* * *

_Fuck_.

This woman fucks my head up.

This is the fucking last thing I should be doing right now. Not with a game tomorrow and certainly not with the fucking weight of the entire fucking country on my back. But she's so damned tight and that playful smile of hers' seems to make me do things that I wouldn't normally do. So when her hips rise to meet mine and her pussy clenches around me, it's like I can't think anymore. All can do is fuck her, slamming my body into hers, almost like I want to punish her or hurt her but she meets me thrust for thrust and soon both of us are breathing heavily and I have to let her arms go so I can push her thighs back so I can go deeper while she tilts her hips up to accomplish the same thing.

It does, however, stop her talking and after a few minutes she does begin to utter the absolutely dirtiest things I've ever heard a girl say and even though it's a bit shocking, it only makes me hornier, if that's even fucking possible.

I'm not the kind of guy that usually gets rough but then most of the girls I've been with are pretty easy to impress. That or they're just happy enough to be fucking a hockey player and don't bother to ask for anything specific but Gemma isn't shy and when she asks me to do it harder, I grab the backs of her knees and press them as far down as they'll go and find a spot even deeper inside of her that feels like I can't go any deeper even though the stroke is shallow and I watch as her eyes flutter shut and her head tilts back and I feel her nails dig into my ass and then her body sucks at mine and I can't hold back. With a roar I thrust inside of her and it feels like I'm being ripped apart, like my head is going to split open and I can't breathe and my heart is going to burst all at the same time.

I collapse onto the bed, not sure if I'm alive or dead, except that she curls up against me and purrs like a cat, her fingernails drawing patterns on my ribs, raising goose-bumps in their wake as her lips press against my neck, my chin, my cheek. From jaguar to harmless kitten, it makes me laugh.

"Mmm, better than last time," she mews, sliding what's left of her bikini bottoms off before slipping leg between both of mine in an effort to be closer.

"Who _are_ you?" I grunt, still not quite back to myself, my breathing still labored like I've just done a full two minute PK shift.

"You know who I am, I'm Gemma. The question is, cowboy, who the fuck are you and how do we turn this into a regular event?"


End file.
